In Your Shoes
by Selyann
Summary: Due to certain circumstances, Shizuo and Izaya end up putting themselves in each other's shoes ... quite literally. However will they cope with the situation? Can they find a way to switch back? (Body swap, possible Shizaya/Izuo later on.)
1. Prologue

**Author Note:** Despite past experiences, I've decided to give writing a multichapter story another try, after all.

Main focus on Shizuo and Izaya; not sure if there will be romantic feelings involved (aka Shizaya/Izuo) or not ... For now the plan is to make it Shizaya later. But we'll see.

There will be multiple points of view (BUT mostly Shizuo's and Izaya's), please bear with me because everything is important to the story. :)

This is just a prologue, real story comes with the first chapter. Please don't get discouraged until then. :D

* * *

**Prologue**

* * *

In this world there are some things which are simply beyond human comprehension.

Sometimes we aren't lucky enough to witness them, but usually it's solely due to our ignorance and denial that we fail to notice them.

Supernatural phenomena, in fact, occur around us all the time.

It would be safe to say that anything that science can't explain is supernatural in one way or another.

Eh? You don't believe me?

Then, imagine this. Let's say that you're walking down the street. There's nothing unusual about the day; perhaps you're on your way home from school or work. Well, it doesn't really matter. Then, for some inexplicable reason, you suddenly remember that one kid that lived next door when you were five. You haven't seen him for ages and he's not anyone particularly important to you, so the thought is merely a fleeting one. And then, as you're minding your own business and nearing the corner, you bump into the very same person that you've just remembered out of the blue.

Coincidence, isn't it?

But, what _is_ a coincidence?

Science knows no answer to this question.

If science knows no answer, how would you explain a coincidence, then?

You can't, can you? You needn't feel bad about it. Many have tried but to no avail. It's nothing to be ashamed of; I'm not omniscient either. It's better to know your own limitations as a human being than believe that you've got none. That would be just foolish.

Oh, pardon me. That's not what I was supposed to be talking about, is it?

Where was I ...?

Oh, right.

Well, since coincidences can't be explained ... If I called them 'supernatural', would that be stretching the truth?

Man says that 'truth is stranger than fiction'. I think I must agree with that, too.

You see, I'm a scientist myself.

Eh? 'I thought you were a doctor,' you say? I never said I wasn't.

Although I'm not really a professional ... but that's an entirely different matter.

Not all doctors are scientists, but I consider myself one.

I'm lucky enough to have some interesting acquaintances, too.

If I were to tell you that one of them is capable of lifting motorbikes and vending machines single-handedly, would you believe me?

...

I'm not lying! Ask anyone who's lived in Ikebukuro for a while and they'll tell you to stay away from Shizuo Heiwajima.

He's not a bad guy, really. But you don't want to piss him off. His strength is superhuman.

Is Shizuo human?

Izaya says he's a beast, yet I don't think it's that simple.

But wouldn't Shizuo's powers be considered 'supernatural', then? It's almost like he's a superhero, though he doesn't really use his strength to save the day like a model character should.

I've asked him countless times to let me take a blood sample for analysis.

Alas, he's never agreed.

I almost managed to get some without him noticing after he got shot, but after breaking five needles I had to give up.

Therefore, this is something I've yet to fathom.

Speaking about Shizuo getting shot ... That was around the time of the Slasher incident.

It was quite a mess, since numerous people got possessed by the demonic blade, Saika.

...

Yes, you heard me correctly. Saika is a demonic blade.

When you acknowledge that such things exist, I suppose you can't deny the existence of the supernatural any more.

Saika's host is Anri Sonohara. She's a student at Raira Academy, and apparently she became friends with Celty at some point, so she's been at our place a couple of times. I don't know her too well myself, but I'm always happy to see Celty make friends.

Anri-chan is a docile-looking girl, but the being inside her is fearsome indeed, so it's probably better not to mess with her. I'm not worried about Celty, because she's strong, but I definitely wouldn't stand a chance against something as powerful as Saika.

...

Eh?

Who's Celty?

Sorry, I forgot you didn't know.

You're not from Ikebukuro, are you?

I don't know if you've heard about the urban legend they call the 'Headless Rider', then.

Well, they also use the nickname 'Black Motorbike' ...

Anyway, that's what Celty Sturluson is called by most.

To me, Celty is my flatmate, and the love of my life.

We're planning to get married one day. This will be the happiest day of my life!

I wonder how she'd look in a wedding dress ...

And what type of underwear she'll wear for our wedding night ... But I'm sure Celty will look sexy in whatever she wears. Though I suspect she might be extremely embarrassed when it comes to that. Celty's just cute like that. She's like a cute little kitten that you can't say no to.

...

Wait, what's wrong?

...

You look like you want to ask, 'Didn't you say she was headless?' She is. But that only makes her cuter.

...

Wait, you think I'm a necrophiliac? Just how much of a freak do you think I am?

Her having no head is perfectly explicable.

You see, Celty is a dullahan, a type of Scottish or Irish faerie that is said to ride a carriage pulled by a headless horse, which is called Cóiste Bodhar, carrying their head under one arm. People believe them to be an omen of death, but I've experienced nothing but happiness thanks to Celty.

Except for the pain that I've got to endure when she jabs me ... but this is nothing in the light of our love.

...

What does it all have to do with the question you've come to ask me ...?

I'm telling you all this because I need to ask you for suspension of disbelief.

In other words, you simply cannot reject the supernatural if you want to learn the truth –

– for what happened to those two in Ikebukuro can in no way be explained with common sense.

* * *

_End of Prologue_

* * *

**Author Note:**... Forgive me, for I'm also a huge Shinra fan and it seemed fitting for him to be the prologue's narrator.

Next chapter: Shizuo and Izaya, finally.


	2. The Beginning of a Non-Everyday Life

**Author Note:** I'm horribly sorry it took me this long to update. I had to finish reading all of the fan-translated light novels, because I thought I would definitely mess something up otherwise. Hopefully the following chapters shouldn't take more than a week or two to write!

* * *

**Chapter One  
**

**The Beginning of a Non-Everyday Life**

* * *

**Somewhere, Ikebukuro**

Shizuo Heiwajima hated violence.

Most people who knew him knew the simple fact.

According to the man himself, he wanted his life to be just the way his name suggested.

Peaceful and quiet.

He wished to be like an island: serene, dignified and unaffected by trivial happenings.

Alas, most people were not exactly inclined to believe his words –

'Iii–zaaa–yaa-kun –!'

– for the man seemed to be the epitome of violence.

_Violence personified_.

'Didn't I tell you –'

_Ikebukuro's Fortissimo_.

'– to stay –'

_Ikebukuro's Automatic Fighting Doll_.

'– out of Ikebukuro, you damn flea –!'

Such were the sobriquets he had acquired over a span of a couple of years.

Actually, just the mention of his real name was enough to render people speechless and send them running away as fast as possible. No one was willing to go against Shizuo Heiwajima, because they knew it would get nasty before they had even managed to consider putting up any form of resistance. And offence was almost never an option.

It would be impossible to understand the reason for that without seeing Shizuo in action.

The reason he was so terrifying was because –

_Crash!_

– Shizuo Heiwajima was capable of lifting vending machines, road signs and the like single-handedly.

One could laugh and say: 'That's easy, isn't it? If only you have the right equipment, it's a piece of cake.'

But Shizuo Heiwajima needed no equipment.

He lifted objects like those with sheer strength, using his bare hands only.

Clad in a bartender suit and sporting a pair of blue-tinted sunglasses, the blond was a strikingly unusual sight. It was difficult to mistake him for someone else, which was what Shizuo had been aiming for from the very beginning.

He had hoped that people would leave him be if they could tell his identity just from the looks. It worked well in many cases –

– but not in all.

There was still ... _him_.

Izaya Orihara.

However, to understand the situation at hand, let us go back in time a little.

* * *

**Earlier that day, a fast-food restaurant in Ikebukuro**

'I'm always amazed at your efficiency, you know,' came a languid remark.

At a table in a McDonald's restaurant sat three people: two men and a woman. They were a curious sight to most, since the men looked like a pair of delinquents while the Caucasian woman exuded an aura of cool and controlled beauty.

What some of the less knowledgeable customers thought upon glancing at the trio was something along the lines of: 'Must be some gang boss with his girlfriend and sidekick. Better to mind your own business.' Almost immediately after having such thoughts cross their minds, they diverted their gazes so as not to get caught up in anything too dangerous.

The rest, however, diverted their gazes even faster due to realising that one of the three was referred to as 'the strongest man in Ikebukuro'. Nobody wanted to think what could happen if he somehow got the impression that he was being stared at.

Thus, the trio were able to enjoy rather a peaceful meal despite looking quite peculiar.

'Thanks ... I guess?' said one of the men – the one wearing a bartender suit – before taking another bite of his cheeseburger.

'Your words, I find appreciative. Thank you.'

The woman's Japanese accent was flawless, but her way of speaking was eccentric nonetheless.

'Ahh, I'm so glad we're done for today,' said the first man, leaning back and taking a sip of his black coffee. 'By the way, we're working the night shift tomorrow; I hope you still remember.'

The man in a bartender suit grunted as if in acknowledgement.

'Sorry, Shizuo. I know you've never really been late unless there was a damn good reason.'

The blond man in a bartender suit – Shizuo – finished his cheeseburger and wiped his mouth with a paper napkin. 'I wouldn't want to cause any problems for the Manager or you, Tom-san.'

The man, Tom Tanaka, shook his head and said: 'You know the Manager likes you just as much as I do. He's a cool person. And you really help us a great deal.'

'Thanks, Tom-san. It means a lot.'

'No problem, man.'

As they talked, the Caucasian woman remained silent. In one of her hands was a book and she seemed to be engrossed in it. In fact, the speed with which she turned the pages was beyond remarkable. One could think that she was merely skimming the text; she was, however, absorbing the contents like a sponge.

In her other hand she held a Triangle Choco Pie, which she nibbled every now and then. Some of the female customers that were not afraid of casting glances at the trio eyed her enviously. They could only dream of having bodies as voluptuous as the blonde's, and yet the cool beauty was eating the sweet treat as if it posed no threat to her sensual figure.

'I've always thought it's sort of stupid that they write "Caution: hot!" on those polystyrene cups. Are there really people out there who ask for coffee – not _iced_ coffee – and expect it to be cold ...?'

'In the USA, frivolous litigation fairly common. _Liebeck v McDonald's Restaurants_ case in 1994, the woman won, the restaurants now put warnings on cups to avoid similar lawsuits. Everyone but some expects coffee to be hot. Thanks to those, we all treated like mentally defective people. Pity, pity,' the blonde woman intoned as though she were a human encyclopedia, not once looking up from her book.

'Vorona's extensive knowledge is impressive as always,' Tom said with awe.

Shizuo, who was now drinking his vanilla shake through a straw, grunted in agreement before peeking in Vorona's direction. After he did so, however, he had to blink a few times, and then he smiled lightly as he kept looking at her.

Feeling his gaze, the woman looked up but said nothing, as if expecting him to bring something up first.

And that he did.

'There's some on your face; pie, that is.'

In response to that, she licked her lips and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand, before taking another – this time larger – bite of the chocolate pie.

The blond-haired man raised his hand and wiped a crumb away from her cheek. 'There, done,' he said and smiled warmly.

It was Vorona's turn to blink, but her expression remained enigmatic and voice even. 'I express my gratitude, Shizuo-senpai.'

'No problem.'

As Tom's eyes watched the scene unfold from behind his glasses, he could not help being under the same impression as once before.

These two ... There sort of is something between them, isn't there? he thought.

I mean ... it's rare enough to see Shizuo smile so honestly.

Didn't he say he had never been close to anyone, let alone a girl? Shouldn't he act more ... bashful in such situations, then?

Tom looked at his friend, who was finishing his vanilla shake, and came to a conclusion.

Then again ... it's Shizuo. He can be a bit clueless at times. It could be that he doesn't even –

Vorona chose that moment to shut her book and stand up. 'Bathroom,' she announced and left the table immediately afterwards.

Tom watched her retreating figure as he said, 'She meant "toilet", didn't she ...?'

'Guess so ...' Shizuo replied to the black man.

For a while the two sat there in silence, with Shizuo drawing circles on the bottom of the emptied shake cup with his plastic straw and Tom gazing at the ceiling, his head tipped backwards lightly. Then, concluding that Vorona's absence was a good opportunity, the latter decided to speak up. 'Uh, Shizuo?'

'Yeah?'

The black man looked back at Shizuo and started to ask, 'You know, about Vorona ...'

The blond raised his gaze and eyed Tom quizzically. 'Yeah ...?'

Tom had known Shizuo since middle school and he knew that there were some questions that fell under the 'safe' category and he supposed this one was something that would not irritate the blond, so he continued. 'I've been wondering. Do you ... like her?'

Shizuo blinked behind his blue-tinted sunglasses and replied, 'Sure.'

Tom was quite nonplussed by his answer; he had not expected it would come so fast and so smoothly.

To his surprise, however, Shizuo did not stop at that. Instead, he scratched the back of his head and said with mild embarrassment: 'I mean, this is the first time in my life that I've had a kouhai. I guess it feels nice.' He looked away for a moment, only to turn back to Tom and give him a sheepish smile. 'I never really felt like I was someone Kasuka could look up to, so, uh, maybe this time I can get it right; being a role model for someone, that is...'

'Er, that's not exactly what I –'

'Back.' The Caucasian woman was already standing next to the table, cutting him short without even realising it. 'All right to leave now?'

Taking it as their cue, Tom nodded and they stood up. The three of them headed towards the exit and upon walking out of the restaurant the teeming streets of Ikebukuro greeted them. In truth, they could have parted ways and gone home separately, since Tom was the only person who needed to return the money to the manager of their debt-collecting company. However, Shizuo took his duties as Tom's bodyguard quite seriously – he felt indebted to his senpai, after all – and insisted on accompanying him every time.

They were not sure why, but Vorona seemed to feel some sense of obligation to follow them as well. Not that they minded, since having a woman with them was a nice change after working as a two-man team. So, out of politeness, they never asked and she never cared to elaborate.

While they were walking in the direction of the company's office, they could hear a distant sound of sirens and roaring of engines. It was probably the traffic police chasing some bousouzoku again.

As such thoughts crossed Shizuo's mind, he vaguely recalled that man who had once come to pick a fight with him. He did not remember his name any more, but, other than upsetting him and not letting him live his life in peace, he had been pleasantly surprised that the other could be so straightforward about it.

Shizuo really hated it when people hid their intentions and tried to trick others into something.

Like that _pest_.

Shizuo clenched his fists, trying not to think about his arch-enemy and his manipulative ways. He knew he should try to keep his anger in check; after all, Izaya was just a pathetic being that played with others' lives because he had nothing better to do. Yes, there was no reason for him to be thinking about such annoying things and ruin a relatively nice day.

Ever so slowly, he could feel his wrath dissipating –

– until a black car pulled over casually some 10 metres before them and its back door opened.

The person who got out of the car was wearing a short dark jacket trimmed with contrastingly pale fur. The jacket's hood rested casually against the individual's shoulders, and above it glossy black hair adorned the head that was currently facing away from the trio.

But Shizuo knew.

He knew that if only the person turned round, he would see that irritating smirk on their face; the one that had been haunting him ever since his first year of high school.

Because he knew that the person was none other than –

'Iii–zaaa–yaa-kun –!' he let out a growl that the other man's ears picked up without fail.

'Whoops! It's Shizu-chan!'

'Shizuo –!' Tom tried to say something to calm him down, but it was already too late. He could see that all Shizuo had eyes for now was Izaya Orihara.

'It was nice seeing you and all, but I'll be going now. Bye!' Izaya added in his clear, invigorating voice and waved his hand before dashing off.

'IZAYA!' roared Shizuo and sprinted in the same direction.

People moved to make way for the tall blond, knowing better than to risk getting caught up in their chase.

Sighing with resignation, Tom slapped his palm against his forehead and said, 'Ah man, not again.'

Vorona, on the other hand, stood next to him and watched the slowly disappearing forms of the two men. Her expression never changed, but someone who knew her better than Shizuo and Tom did – for example, her partner Slon – would be able to discern a note of excitement in her voice as she muttered: 'Flea.'

'Huh?'

'Flea,' she repeated. 'Izaya Orihara. Obliterate without trace, is possible. Shizuo-senpai, no trouble. Easy.'

'Uh, please don't even say such things. And at least not out loud in the street.'

Tom could not help thinking that, despite their efficiency, the two were a real handful at times.

The Caucasian woman could feel the excitement bubbling up inside her. Shizuo Heiwajima was her prey, the one she wanted to get her hands on the most in order to confirm that every human could be broken. She was not interested in Izaya Orihara per se, but if he stood a chance in a fight against Shizuo, breaking him could serve as a stepping stone to bring her closer to her goal.

Not to mention, she was not about to let someone else snatch Shizuo from her.

He was _her_ kill.

Tom was certain that an odd glint had appeared in her eyes for a brief moment, but it was gone before he had managed to put his finger on it.

'Permission to leave granted?' Vorona asked in a voice devoid of emotion.

Sighing once more, Tom had no other choice but to reply: 'Sure, do whatever you want. I'm not your guardian or anything. Just please try not to get into trouble. It would be problematic, to say the least.'

She nodded as if in understanding, but in reality she had no intention of keeping her word anyway.

All Vorona was able to pay attention to was her instinct calling out to her in a loud, clear voice.

As she started running after Shizuo and Izaya, she could not stop a small smile from tugging at her lips.

And thus, in a matter of minutes, Tom Tanaka had been abandoned by his companions. Shaking his head, he muttered something that sounded like: 'Good grief ...' under his breath and headed to the office to return the amount of money they had collected earlier that day.

And Ikebukuro continued its everyday life –

– which was soon to become a non-everyday life, but that was something none of them knew, not even the city itself.

* * *

**At the same time, the Animate store in Ikebukuro**

'Oi, how much longer is it going to take?' asked a voice with mild irritation.

'Aww, come on, Dotachin. Don't be such a meanie!' complained a woman who was browsing through a stack of CDs. 'We haven't been here for that long. And I'm not going out until I've – Oh! Here it is!' she exclaimed with glee.

A man who looked half-Caucasian suddenly appeared next to her. 'Karisawa-san, could it be that you've managed to find the limited edition CD that I told you about?'

'No, Yumacchi, _better_!' she said, hiding the item behind her back.

His face expressed great surprise as she said those words, as if he just could not believe it. Then, his jaw dropped as he said: 'No way! Could it be ... the Holy Grail of all otaku? Could it be the –!'

'This! The BL drama CD I've been hunting for since last summer!' said Karisawa enthusiastically. 'Oh, I can't wait; I just can't wait till I'm home,' she cooed while rubbing the CD against her cheek.

'Dotachin' and 'Yumacchi' looked at her with what could only be described as disturbed faces.

'I'm pretty sure Karisawa-san has already heard all of it on the Internet ...' said the other otaku. 'Why not spend money on something else?'

He was probably thinking along the lines of: 'Something that won't have us listening to you obsessing over fictional gay men for the rest of the week,' but he stopped himself from voicing it.

'That's something completely different, Yumacchi! There's a huge difference between a CD and a rip downloaded from the Internet. I thought that you, of all people, would know! Not to mention –'

'Yumasaki, Karisawa. You'd better hurry up because I'm not waiting any more. Remember our arrangements?'

'Ah, Kadota-san! Wait up!'

'Yeah, Dotachin! We're going to the cash desk already anyway,' said the woman with a wink and the otaku duo hurried to pay for their merchandise.

Minutes later, they were already exiting the store and packing their bags of shopping into the van. Once they were done, Yumasaki and Karisawa took their seats at the back and Kadota flopped down in his seat at the front. He looked at the man in the driver's seat – Saburou Togusa – who had already begun revving up the engine and was now lost in listening to his new Ruri Hijiribe CD, looking like he was about to cry from happiness.

Kadota sighed and nudged him. 'Togusa, we're ready to go.'

Togusa nodded and prepared to drive out into the street. While they were waiting for the traffic to give him the chance to do that, they saw something zoom past them. Later came a _thud_ and a sudden impact, and yet another thing zoomed past them.

'It's them!' gasped Karisawa.

'UFO? UFO?' asked Yumasaki, pressing his face against the window.

At the same time, Togusa was fuming in the driver's seat. 'This ...'

Having a nasty feeling that he knew what was going on, Kadota opened the door to scan the area for the culprit.

'You bastard! What have you done to my van!' roared Togusa with an enraged expression.

'Calm down, Togusacchi! Here, I'll let you listen to my drama CD –'

Getting back into the car, Kadota closed the door behind him. 'I knew it,' he said and sighed.

'Ehh?' Yumasaki turned to him with hope. 'Did you manage to glimpse the alien, Kadota-san?'

'Shizuo and Izaya are going at it again.'

Karisawa immediately left Togusa alone and jumped to the window. Pushing Yumasaki away, she pressed her blushing face against it. 'Where, Dotachin, where?' She was already reaching for the handle to slide the door open when Yumasaki wrapped his arms around her and tried to keep her from getting out. Struggling against his grip, she cried: 'Let me go, Yumacchi! It's BL and it's _live_! I've gotta see!'

'Karisawa, that's so not what you think it is ...' Kadota said with a resigned expression.

* * *

'IZAYA!'

People jumped out of their way as the two ran like the wind.

'Didn't I tell you to stay out of Ikebukuro, you damn flea!'

'I'm afraid I can't do that, Shizu-chan. I've got some business here, you see,' Izaya answered, but the tone of his voice indicated that he was anything but sorry.

A blade flew in Shizuo's direction, but he caught it with his teeth and crushed it promptly.

'Damn show-off,' muttered Izaya while running away.

'Che, I don't care about your stinking business!' Shizuo growled behind him.

Izaya smiled crookedly, which Shizuo naturally could not see, and thought: I should have figured as much; Shizu-chan is always one huge obstacle to my plans, after all.

His arch-nemesis somehow always knew how to find him whenever he set foot in Ikebukuro. He had no idea how it was possible, but he concluded that it had to be due to his being the beast he was.

To Izaya, Shizuo's very existence was an abomination in itself. He was the bane of his life, preventing him from freely enjoying what he liked the most: human observation.

While he was an information broker with his office in Shinjuku, he had lived in Ikebukuro for most of his life. The district seemed to draw him in again and again, although he himself did not know why.

Eventually, he concluded that it must have loved him. The reason was that simple.

Ikebukuro seemed to be swarming with the most interesting observation subjects he could wish for, who unwittingly incited him to come back, to have him dabble with their lives and give them a little push on the back as they were walking on the borderline between one choice and another. And then he would watch them take one of the sides with hardly concealed glee.

Regardless of their choice, he would still love them the same. After all, he loved humans with both their admirable and condemnable qualities. To expose their true selves he would put them through various ordeals – never directly, however, since he preferred watching from a distance.

Shinra had once put it so: 'If I were to describe you ... I'd have to say, "You make me want to puke," I guess.'

Izaya unashamedly considered it a perfect description of himself.

He would make people puke up their true selves, even if they were really not far from resembling vomit – lacking any solid form and disgusting.

He would revel in the feeling of having exposed their true nature.

There was no greater pleasure.

Such was the being called Izaya Orihara.

The man dashed past numerous buildings, avoiding passers-by and inanimate obstacles with ease that he owed to his experience. He turned round the corner and jumped over a brick wall there. He landed softly on his feet, cushioning his fall with expertise. When Izaya looked over his shoulder and up, he saw Shizuo there, ready to spring off the wall, so he sped up just in case.

Really, Shizu-chan is so annoying, Izaya thought. I wish he would just drop dead already.

A quiet tune sounded from his jacket's pocket.

After turning another corner, he ran straight ahead and then turned left, entering a dark alleyway. He hid there, for Shizuo was a good distance behind him and it would most likely take him a while to catch up with Izaya.

And all Izaya needed was a short moment.

With a malevolent smirk tugging at his lips, he pulled a mobile phone out of his jacket and slid the keypad out. He began pushing the buttons in a deft manner, his eyes glinting gleefully.

In a matter of less than a minute, he was done. He shoved the phone back inside the pocket and ran out into the open, seeming less concerned about Shizuo being on his tail now.

Ah, this is going to be fun, Shizu-chan. I can't wait already, Izaya thought and began laughing heartily.

He could hear Shizuo's irate growling from the behind, but it did not bother him any more. He knew where to go now, and his destination was not that far away. He was certain that the blond would follow him too, so nothing should go wrong ...

Well, he could never be 100% sure when his plans involved Shizuo, because he was far too unpredictable, but he supposed that in this case it would be safe to assume that he would not want to let Izaya get away willingly.

And, for once, Izaya was not planning to get away ... yet.

Without slowing down, he made a run for the nearby warehouse, which he knew to be abandoned, and entered it. Only when he was right before the back wall did he come to a halt and turn round.

The sight that greeted him was Shizuo Heiwajima dashing through the entry and stopping roughly two metres before him. The blond was panting, but that did not stop him from grinning wildly at Izaya as he said: 'That wasn't very bright of you, Izaya-kun, was it?'

'Ooh, I'm scared!' replied Izaya's clear voice mockingly. 'Shizu-chan is going to beat me up!'

'Oh, you bet I am. I'm going to fucking kill you, you damn flea.'

Izaya smiled wide, but the smile did not reach his eyes. 'You can't mean that, Shizu-chan. I mean, if you really wanted to kill me, you would have already done it. After all, I've got nowhere to run now, do I?'

The grin disappeared from Shizuo's face and he narrowed his eyes, clenching his fists. His expression showed pure anger as he growled: 'What the fuck are you playing at?'

Izaya seemed to revel in his mockery, seemingly not in the least bothered by the sinister aura Shizuo was exuding, for his grin never faded. 'You should know what I'm talking about. In terms of speed you're no match for Shishizaki-senpai, but this time you have managed to catch me. So tell me, Shizu-chan, why am I still alive?' Izaya asked, amusement clearly audible in his voice. 'Are you really serious about killing me? Can you even do that?' After saying that, he laughed obnoxiously and put his right hand in his jacket's pocket.

'Shut up!' Shizuo gritted his teeth in fury.

Izaya's eyes glinted as he continued to jibe at his enemy. 'Really now, if you weren't a protozoan, I would ask if your brain was broken. Alas, from the very beginning there wasn't any hope of Shizu-chan understanding something so complex, so I should have expected that reaction,' he said with faked disappointment.

'I TOLD YOU TO SHUT –!'

Shizuo's yell was interrupted by a deafening explosion and the back wall blowing up in his face. Both he and Izaya started coughing from the cloud of smoke that enveloped them soon after – what _was_ in those old crates nearby anyway? – and the latter saw it as an opportunity to pull out a knife from his pocket and throw it in Shizuo's general direction. With their proximity, it was bound to hit the target without him trying too hard; Izaya was sure of that.

The other man made no sound that would imply that he had been hurt, but when seconds later Izaya found himself pinned to the ground under Shizuo's crushing weight, he could feel something stiff press against his thigh and he knew it had to be the knife's handle.

With mild satisfaction, he thought: Ah, that's pretty amazing. I thought it would barely graze that brute. Good, good.

'Iii–zaaa–yaaa-kun,' Shizuo's voice sounded directly above his face.

Izaya could already _feel_ from the other's breath that they were far too close to his liking, and when the smoke cleared to some extent, his suspicions were only confirmed.

Shizuo's blue-tinted sunglasses must have fallen off at some point between the moment of the explosion and now, because the eyes that were glowering at him with such immense intensity were brown and nothing obscured them from Izaya's vision.

Narrowing his eyes, he thought: How disgusting, for Shizu-chan to be so close to me –

However, his train of thought was interrupted abruptly by the feeling of sharp pain in his leg.

'Shit!' he hissed.

A _clank_ followed, but he failed to pay much attention to it, since the pain was much more acute than any other he had experienced before.

'Finally realised the position you're in?' Shizuo said, sounding slightly smug.

'That's not –' And then he saw _it_ and he realised what was going to happen to him if he failed to escape as soon as possible. 'Fuck! Shizu-chan, let me go!'

'No fucking way!' the blond growled in response. 'I'm not done with you yet.'

'Idiot –!'

This time it was Izaya who got interrupted by something exploding. He cursed under his breath, making a mental note to get back at whoever was responsible for this – not that he had no idea who it was – as soon as he got out of this troublesome situation. Amidst the sound of something beginning to fall apart, he hissed while trying desperately to push Shizuo off him.

Suddenly, however, the weight on top of him became so unbearable that he started to find it difficult to breathe and he could not see a thing. Had he not known better, he would have thought it was the other man trying to finish him off, but in his current situation even knowing what was really happening did nothing to help.

'Get ... off ... Shizu—'

And, without a warning, Izaya's consciousness faded.

* * *

_End of Chapter One_

* * *

**Author Note:** ... And that's where the real story begins!


	3. A Lapse of Reality

**Author Note:** I did it! Managed to update in just one week! Despite some misadventures earlier this week (i.e. me almost being run over by a car when I was normally crossing the street). I must say I'm quite happy about it. I hope you'll enjoy the chapter!

* * *

**Chapter Two**

**A Lapse of Reality**

* * *

Surrounded by almost perfect silence, a man woke up.

At first he stayed still, but that only lasted for a few seconds, which was when he decided to roll over onto his side, only to find out that he was in excruciating pain. Gritting his teeth, he winced and let out a hiss before realisation hit him.

Come to think of it, what the hell happened? Where am I ...? he thought and opened his eyes slowly.

The sudden brightness made him squint before his eyes got used to the light. As it got better, he could slowly make out his surroundings.

Wait ... Am I ... in hospital?

From what he could make out, he was alone in the room, which somewhat made him feel relieved. For some reason he was convinced that letting himself be seen in this humiliating state would end badly.

A sudden headache blinded him for a moment and he hissed again. He had problems remembering anything that might have happened before he had ended up here and he could not help feeling somewhat anxious because of that.

The man tried to make himself remember, but nothing came to his mind. Overcome with frustration, he attempted to get out of the bed, forgetting that there had to be a reason why he was in hospital.

Just as the sharp pain in his ribcage and right leg made him groan, a click of heels foreshadowed some other person's arrival, and soon enough the door opened soundlessly.

A young woman with her hair tied in a neat bun walked up to the bed with a pleasant smile. 'Ah, you've woken up!' she said serenely. 'We all hoped that would happen today, and so it did. Splendid! How are you feeling?'

He had somewhat hoped the slight grimace on his face would suffice as an answer, but apparently no such luck. 'Like I've been run over by a truck ... and not just once,' he replied hoarsely and chuckled bitterly.

She smiled sympathetically and stepped to the side of the hospital bed. 'That's to be expected. I hate to say this, but I'm afraid you'll have to be on a drip for a few more days, just in case,' she said in a professional voice.

It was then that he noticed that there was indeed a needle embedded in the crook of his arm. He briefly wondered how he could have not noticed that before, but the thought did not linger and he looked up at the nurse, who was still smiling pleasantly despite being focused on adjusting the drip.

'Um ...' he began, fumbling for words. There were so many questions he wanted to ask, but eventually he opted for asking the simplest one of all. 'What on Earth happened to me?'

'Ah ...' She gave him an apologetic look. 'I'm sorry, but I'm not familiar with the details, so you'll have to wait for the doctor to explain everything to you. I'll tell him to come here as soon as possible.'

He let his head rest on the pillow again as he said, 'I see. Thanks.'

'You're welcome. That's my job.'

He could swear he had her seen wink at him, yet he refused to simply believe it, for there was something in the back of his mind telling him that he did not exactly get winked at just like that. He did not know, however, why he was so sure of it.

Well, a gut feeling, he concluded in his thoughts and closed his eyes, enjoying the quietness that reigned in the room.

As the nurse was walking out, she turned back to look at him for the last time and said: 'Oh, I almost forgot. There's someone waiting for you outside. Shall I let them know they may come in?'

He had no idea who she was talking about, so he was somewhat unsettled by the statement, but he decided that there was no helping it. Perhaps the visitor was someone important. So, in the end he just sighed and muttered, 'Yeah, sure.'

When she left, he embraced the moment of solitude and tried to collect his thoughts. He had absolutely no idea what was going on around him and he hoped he would learn something soon, for the lack of knowledge was making him feel uncomfortable, to say the least. He struggled to remember something – anything – but he gave up when he realised that he could not even remember his own name.

Something was clearly wrong. He did not know yet what was it that was wrong, but he was sure he would find out eventually.

He most definitely would.

Repeating such words in his mind made him somewhat more at ease and he opened his eyes when he heard someone enter the room. His visitor, he assumed.

The person was a woman who he had never seen before – or so he thought, at least. Without saying a word, she seated herself on a chair standing next to the hospital bed. As he looked her over, he noticed that she was actually quite pretty. With a mane of dark brown hair flowing down over her shoulders and a slender yet curvaceous figure, she definitely had the appearance of someone who would be popular with men. However, as their eyes met, he realised one thing.

The stare she was giving him was so icy that his heart stopped beating for a moment, and a wave of anxiety washed over him.

He had absolutely no idea who she was, and there she was staring at him in a way that conveyed nothing but pure loathing.

He tried to search his mind for any recollection of her, but to no avail.

'So I see you've managed to land yourself in hospital again. Congratulations,' she said sarcastically in a cold voice.

He had not the slightest idea how to reply to such words, so he remained silent, trying to figure out what the relationship between them was.

Furrowing his brow lightly, he thought: Perhaps she's an ex-girlfriend that I dumped ... that would explain the harsh feelings ...

However, it was merely a theory and there was no way he could prove it just by lying there and doing nothing. So, eventually, he chuckled wryly and said, 'I suppose so.'

'Good job. I don't, however, recall coming to see your sorry arse in hospital being in my job description,' she stated coolly.

The man blinked in confusion, and then it suddenly dawned on him that he must have been her employer. Still, he could not recall doing anything that would make her harbour such negative feelings –

– which, sadly, did not mean much, seeing that he could not remember anything in the first place.

'I was quite surprised when I got a call from hospital. I hurried here, thinking that something had happened to Seiji. But when I arrived, I was told they had found a card in your wallet that had my phone number on it and said: _Please contact in case of emergency._

'I wanted to leave when I heard it was about you, but they asked me to stay and at least say hello.' The look on her face expressed distaste as she spoke those words. 'In any case, I hope you're prepared to pay me extra for coming here. I didn't think you'd be so desperate for some company after the last time that you'd turn to me, but maybe I should have expected that.'

Her words were becoming increasingly difficult to digest. Was he really that bad a person ...? Or, at least, had he been before? He found himself lost for words as he tried to comprehend everything that he had just been told. Nothing rang a bell. Whoever that 'Seiji' who she had mentioned was, he could not remember him. He did not even know if he was supposed to remember – although from her attitude it would be safe to assume that he was.

He had no idea how much time had passed as they sat in silence, but she eventually stood up and stepped closer to his bed before reluctantly placing a box wrapped in furoshiki on top of his stomach.

'I guess you can have it. I made it for Seiji, but throwing it away would be a waste.' She paused for a moment before adding: 'I hope you're allergic to something and die.'

And she turned round and left him alone without so much as saying goodbye.

He sat there for a while, confused after the encounter with the cold woman. As he eyed the bundle sitting on his stomach, a bundle which he assumed to contain food, he wondered if it was safe to eat or touch, seeing that the female's feelings appeared to be rather hostile. However, if he were to trust her, she had prepared it thinking it would be eaten by someone else, so it should probably be safe ...

He turned his gaze to the window and saw that it was sunny. For some reason it incentivised him to go outside and bask in the sunlight, but he was aware of the fact that he had to stay in his bed for the time being. Hopefully, everything would be explained to him soon enough and he would know for how much longer he had to stay in hospital.

He let his eyelids slide shut over his eyes and sighed, deciding to just rest while waiting for a doctor to come and shed some light on his condition.

* * *

When he woke up upon hearing a voice, he had no idea how much time had passed. He supposed it could not have been much, since it was still as bright outside as it had been before. Not that it really mattered ... but since he had no idea who he was and what was going on, he had nothing more absorbing to think about.

There was one difference, however. A silhouette stood between his bed and the window, partially obscuring the view.

It was a middle-aged man who could only be a doctor – clad in white, with a stethoscope hanging around his neck.

How typical, he thought.

At the same time, he could not help wondering how come he knew so many things which would be considered common knowledge, and yet could not remember anything about himself.

'How are you feeling?' asked the doctor, observing him closely.

For the second time that day, he answered: 'Like I've been run over by a truck.'

The doctor nodded and jotted something on a pad of paper.

'What happened to me?'

The doctor looked at him and said: 'It appears that you got caught up in some gang fight and almost got crushed when a warehouse collapsed. You were incredibly lucky that someone got you out of there and brought you here.'

'Ah ... is that so?' he furrowed his brow lightly. 'To be honest, I can't remember much ...'

'Well, that's to be expected ... We suspected traumatic brain injury and further examination supports the diagnosis. But, I must say, it's surprising that you can speak and move normally now. Your recovery is speedier than it should usually be.'

'I see,' he replied, simply taking in the words.

It would seem he was lucky to even be alive. He would have to thank whoever had brought him here if he ever met the person again.

'Post-traumatic amnesia is perfectly natural. But you needn't worry. You should start regaining memory soon. Some stimulus could speed up the process significantly, which is why we asked Miss Namie Yagiri to come here. Alas, it seems it didn't help, so perhaps the connection between the two of you wasn't strong enough.'

He looked at his fists for a moment and thought: Ah, so her name is Namie Yagiri ...

Although, he still had no idea who she was. Knowing her name did not seem to be helping.

'Is there anyone else you know that could come here?' the doctor asked.

'I don't know,' he answered truthfully, somewhat disappointed that he could not do anything useful as he was now.

Silently, a nurse – a different one this time – opened the door a crack and thrust her head inside the room. The doctor nodded to her in acknowledgement before turning back to his patient. 'Is there anything you would like to ask me before I go?'

'Actually ...' He paused for a while, looking at the doctor. 'Can I go to the toilet?'

The doctor blinked a couple of times before smiling lightly. 'Naturally.'

He left, passing the nurse on his way, and the woman appeared in the spot at the bedside previously occupied by the doctor.

She smiled a bright smile at him and extended her hand. 'I'll escort you, sir. We can't have anything happen to you on the way, after all,' she said politely.

He took the offered hand and got up from the bed with her help. He waited patiently while she disconnected the drip so that he could move more freely, and when she was done, they started walking slowly in the direction of the door.

Luckily, the toilet was close to the room. He was actually feeling quite unstable, probably due to ... whatever injury it was on his leg, so the nurse's support helped him greatly. He tried, however, to act like the pain was insignificant, since he was a man. While he still could not remember his identity, at least he was sure of that much, and he knew he should not let any weakness show too much; that would be embarrassing.

When they got there, she smiled lightly and nodded, letting him open the door on his own and silently suggesting that she would be waiting outside in case anything happened.

Finding himself alone in the secluded space, he heaved a sigh of relief. At least he could take care of his physiological needs on his own. The satisfaction this knowledge gave him was rather minor, but reassuring nonetheless.

Once he was done, he turned round to go to the sink and froze when he saw something that made his insides churn.

He was being stared at.

This itself would be enough to make him feel uneasy – since he was supposed to be alone and here it seemed that there was someone other than himself inside.

But what made him more disturbed was the fact that, for some reason, he knew the face, although he could not quite place it.

His mind told him, however, that the face was an unwelcome sight, and his body started shaking with anger.

Why?

How could he feel so angry all of a sudden?

A few moments later, he realised a muffled voice could be heard from the other side of the door and strained his ears to hear –

– though later he would think that, in retrospect, if he had not heard the words, his life could have turned out to be much easier.

'—san? Orihara-san?'

'Orihara'?

The name ...

It left a bad taste in his mouth ...

The worried voice spoke again: 'Orihara-san? Hello? Izaya Orihara-san?'

Orihara.

Izaya.

Izaya.

Izaya Orihara.

That ...

He knew that name.

He knew that face.

Everything flooded back suddenly, all those memories.

Izaya Orihara.

Izaya ...

'You ...' he growled, clenching his fists before aiming a punch at the face in front of him. 'YOU FUCKING BASTARD!'

* * *

**At the same time, a flat in an expensive-looking building on Kawagoe Highway**

'Celty, I'm home!' said a singsong male voice.

The man who had just announced his arrival took his shoes off and changed into slippers. He set his bag on the floor, waiting for a reply yet receiving none.

'Celty?' he repeated.

Once again, his words were met with silence, so he headed for the living room, hoping to see his flatmate there. Perhaps she was playing a video game on her own and was so absorbed in it that she had failed to notice him.

However, when he opened the door he saw no one.

Since there were no sounds coming from the bathroom, he assumed that it had to be empty as well and went straight to his bedroom. He really needed some rest after all that work ...

Upon opening the door, he blinked when he noticed the figure of his flatmate lying in his bed, her body covered all the way up to her neck – which in actuality meant completely covered, for the woman had no head on her neck.

Celty Sturluson was a dullahan, a headless faerie who had wandered all the way to Japan in search of her head. She had acquired all kinds of sobriquets in the last twenty years she had spent there, but none of those mattered to her. She did not crave fame.

Even her initial goal had almost been forgotten.

She was happy as it was, living with the underground doctor by the name of Shinra Kishitani.

As Shinra slid under the covers next to her, still wearing his lab coat, he called her name once again. 'Hey, Celty?'

Only then did she move, and unexpectedly fast too, wrapping her arms around Shinra's neck and nestling her non-existent head against his shoulder. Their bodies pressed against each other closely and the doctor swooned with delight. His arms slid lower down her back as he said: 'Ahh, Celty, you're so straightforward today –'

But he stopped when he received no punch in the stomach. It was then that he noticed that she was trembling.

'W–Wait ... Celty, what's wrong?'

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her shadow extend behind her and take hold of her PDA. He followed the movement and waited for it to finish typing something – an action that did not take long at all.

[I was so scared, Shinra! I didn't do anything wrong, but they ... they ...]

'Celty, if you don't tell me everything, I won't be able to understand.'

She made a movement as close to a nod as a headless person could ever manage and released her embrace so that she could type with her own hands.

And what she typed was –

* * *

A group of people burst into the toilet, among them the nurse that had been waiting for him outside the whole time.

She ran up to him quickly and in a concerned voice she asked: 'Orihara-san, is everything all right? What happened?'

He tried to make his breathing even as he stood there panting.

'Orihara-san ...?' she repeated while taking hold of his left hand.

Upset that she was yet another person trying to hold him back, prevent him from beating that flea to a pulp, he turned to glower at her, but, to his surprise, she was looking at him and not in any other direction. She flinched when she saw his upset expression, but repeated the name like a mantra: 'Orihara-san? Orihara-san? Can you hear me?'

Having a nasty premonition, he turned to face the spot where he was sure he had seen Izaya –

– and he did see Izaya there, with a woman who looked exactly like the nurse at his side, holding Izaya's hand exactly like she was holding his –

– all of that reflected in a cracked mirror.

Still looking in that direction, he raised his free hand and clenched into a fist, and then untightened it again.

The Izaya in the mirror did the same without delay.

Inclining his head with an increasingly malevolent expression, he chuckled darkly.

No, this was way too surreal to be true.

More surreal than Celty not having a head, yet walking around freely like it was a normal thing to do.

'You've got to be kidding me ...' he chuckled, placing his right palm against his face.

'There's no fucking way I'm Izaya Orihara.'

Because I remember now.

My name is _Shizuo Heiwajima_.

* * *

**An hour earlier, a flat in Ikebukuro**

Another man woke up in a bed and began stretching with his eyes still shut. He could feel the sunlight flooding in and caressing his face pleasantly. He nestled himself under the duvet, feeling comfortable like never before. He was enjoying the relaxing moment when suddenly he shot up into a sitting position, his eyes opening rapidly.

As far as he knew, and he was sure his knowledge was in no way lacking, all the windows in his bedroom faced the west.

This was not his bedroom.

He narrowed his eyes, looking around the room, but finding nothing that would give away whose bedroom he was in. As he was on the point of getting up and beginning further inspection of his surroundings, a mobile phone started ringing on the bedside table.

He glanced in the direction and saw the device. It was orange and most definitely not his. Seeing that nobody was coming to answer the call, he flipped the phone open and held it against his ear. He decided that not giving away his name at first was the safest thing to do. And so, he simply said, 'Hello?'

'Ah, you've finally picked up! Man, I was beginning to worry here.'

'... Who is it?' he asked hesitantly.

'What d'you mean? It's me, Tom. Listen, that friend of yours told me that you'd got caught up in something really troublesome thanks to Izaya again, so I'm calling to ask if you'll be able to come to work tonight –'

Suddenly, he felt like laughing. Oh, the sweet irony! If only he could see the face Tom would make if he knew it was none other than Izaya himself on the phone!

'– Shizuo? Shizuo? You still there, man?'

With a childishly malicious smirk, Izaya said: 'Sorry, Shizu-chan's sort of busy right now.'

'Wait, uh, Shizu—'

However, the confused voice was cut off as Izaya shut the phone loudly and laughed.

And he laughed, and laughed and laughed –

'Ah, truly, how stupid Shizu-chan's friends are! No wonder he can't ever grow up, stuck in a protozoan clique like this!' He threw his head back as he cackled, clutching his stomach, which was beginning to hurt from all that laughter.

Having calmed down, he wiped a tear that had formed in the corner of his eye.

Come to think of it, has the brute kidnapped me or something? he thought with amusement before dismissing the thought. There's no way he'd do that, Shizu-chan would never be able to kidnap me unless I let him ... which is never going to happen.

He shook his head lightly, still feeling the urge to laugh.

However, he decided that he should really have a look around, especially if it was Shizuo's flat. Full of things which were waiting for him, waiting to be discovered, waiting to be used to plan Shizuo's imminent demise ...

Izaya smiled malevolently at the alluring prospect and threw the duvet to the side carelessly. He was generally neat, but if it was Shizuo's place, he felt no need to leave it in an orderly state.

The first thing that hit him was the slight discomfort in his left thigh. The memory of Shizuo on top of him came back to him. He remembered it far too vividly for his liking. He would probably be unable to get the image out of his head for a good while. That crushing weight on top of him, pinning him to the ground; that sickeningly hot breath in his face when the blond was panting and growling like a feral dog; that sudden sharp pain in his right leg –

Right ... leg ...

He was absolutely positive that what he had felt just now was pain in his _left_thigh ...

Izaya narrowed his eyes and lowered his gaze to get a good look at his legs.

What he saw was a pair or legs clad in trousers that most definitely were _not_his. And, sure enough, there was a patch of dried blood on his right thigh, not the left one.

Moreover, judging by the size of the gash, it should hurt much more than it actually did.

Izaya had always prided himself on his intelligence. Therefore, it did not take him much time to come up with a hypothesis. A hypothesis that would explain everything perfectly, beginning with his waking up in Shizuo's bed and ending with feeling pain in the wrong leg.

He refused to believe it, for it was utterly ridiculous. However, he decided that sitting there and taking no action would lead him nowhere, so he began looking for a bathroom.

Just in case, he told himself.

I need to see.

I need to prove myself how ludicrous that idea is.

The flat was rather a small one, so he found the bathroom in no time and stormed in without any hesitation.

Leaning against the sink, he peered into the mirror hanging above it.

The face that stared back at him was not unfamiliar to him, although he was used to seeing it under completely different circumstances.

Not in a mirror.

And especially not when he was the only person present in the small bathroom.

A pair of brown eyes stared back at him as if mockingly, not in the least obscured by the strands of blond hair that framed the face.

His grip tightened around the sink as he gritted his teeth, shaking with anger.

* * *

**Author Note:** Ahh, it seems like there was so little of Izaya, but that's because he's sharper than Shizuo and I wanted to end it with them both realising their situation ... /excuse


End file.
